Just a taste

I start all my pepper seeds in my little work building and, when growing well, they go to the greenhouse. When they are big enough, we then transplant them into the hill garden. When I start the peppers, I write on a small piece of plastic indicating what pepper variety it is. These consist of a piece of plastic window blind about 4 to 5 inches long, and I write on them with a permanent marker. So when we plant them in the hill garden, we put the marker by them, indicating the variety.

Marge helped me plant the 75 to 80 spice peppers. We had some kind of short Anaheim peppers that range from warm to hot when red. Another variety is corbaci, which grow to about 10 inches long. They're kind of long and pointed. Then there are some jumbo jalapeño peppers and some no-heat jalapeños that we make poppers with. We grew some pepperoncini peppers that Marge uses when she cooks a roast in the insta-pot. There were several poblano peppers. My favorite was some Alma paprika peppers. They are sweet and mild except for one now and then that is blazing hot.

We're never sure which ones are no-heat or mild or hotter. We didn't grow any that were ridiculous, like the one-chip challenge peppers, so I usually bite off the end and sample. Usually the end is the mildest part of the pepper, but as you eat toward the stem it gets hotter. The other evening I bit the end off one of the Anaheim peppers, and no heat. It had a really good spicy taste, so I thought this will be good. The second bite was OK. The third bite, I was looking for my drink and picking a bell pepper to chew on to calm down the heat. The darn thing went from good to hot instantly.

Our son did this several years ago. He had bought some sweet banana peppers from a major chain, and they were beautiful. The writing on the package said sweet banana peppers, so he went to eating and chewing and swallowing. Before he realized it, the pepper was blazing hot, and he couldn't breathe. I knew some of our peppers were hot, but honestly I had gotten them mixed up and didn't know which was which. The permanent marker had disappeared, and now I wasn't sure.

Growing up, we had to taste everything. Everything! We didn't have to eat a lot of it, but we had to at least give it a taste. Oatmeal with raisins. One small bite. Raisin pie. One really small bite. I don't like raisins. Mincemeat pie was kind of one bite. It wouldn't go down. The most disgusting thing was when Mom and Dad would soft-boil eggs and then smack them with the edge of a table knife. They would then dig out the runny egg yellow and at times the runny egg white. Runny egg yellow is OK, but I can't do the runny egg white. Really small bite or, should I say, sip.

I bought some boudin and gave it a try, and it was hot. Glad I had taken a small bite. My son's wife's dad likes head cheese or blood pudding. Small bite is enough. Sushi I can't do. Not even a small bite. My fish has to be cooked. Period. My friends like it, so they can have it all. Marge and I've experimented a little. We made some kimchi, and it was OK, but not a favorite. We tried cabbage soup, and I really like it. Marge isn't impressed. A lot of people eat wild mushrooms. I like the ones that look like Smurf houses. I'll pass on the rest. One small bite might make you sick, if it's the wrong one.

About everything I eat or smell is a small bite or small smell. One thing I've always wondered is why we don't have more sampler plates at restaurants or even when we have guests over. Maybe have the sampler plate be the appetizer. There is nothing harder than taking a serving of something that looks good but isn't. Then what do you do?